Recovery
by simply woven
Summary: A twos-shot post-episode for "Out on a Limb" when Kerry get's her hip replaced...just a little introspect on her feelings afterwards...featuring Abby and Jeanie
1. Recovery

A post-episode for "Out on a Limb" from season 12...a bit of Kerry's thoughts after having her surgery. Also, just a note...if you are pretty familiar with the story arc of Kerry injuring her hip, then you might have noticed that in "If Not Now" she injures her right hip, even though in most all other episodes, including "Out on a Limb" it is made pretty clear that it is her left hip that is dysplastic/injured...it's always bothered me, lol, so that's how i wrote this, as if she had her left hip replaced.

Disclaimer: I don't own ER, Kerry Weaver, Abby Lockhart, Henry Lopez, Florina Lopez or Dr. Kline...

Spoilers: "Out on a Limb"

Please, Read & Review :)

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**Recovery**

"100, 99...98....97.....96.....95....." That's the last thing I said aloud with an actual left hip; with an actual femoral head and an actual hip socket. So, I'm awake. The anesthesia didn't kill me. Apparently it didn't paralyze me, either; the pain in my hip is incredible. _My _hip. Is it my hip? I guess it is…I do have to pay for a good sized portion of the bill. You'd think, being a doctor, your medical insurance would have good coverage…Yeah, that'd make way too much sense, wouldn't it?

"Kerry? Kerry, can you hear me?" Abby. She stayed. I open my eyes to see her sitting at the side of my bed. The room is dark and cold; recovery.

"Yeah…hi, Abby." I choke out, I'm not even sure if she heard me. My throat is dry…I was intubated, that's right. Apparently she caught on; she reaches out and grabs the water that's on the tray. Water has never tasted so good.

"Everything went well…Kline was in and out in four hours. How much pain are you in?" that's the last thing I hear clearly; I'm out again.

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"Dr. Weaver?" A nurse's voice wakes me from a light sleep. I've been in and out of consciousness for what must be hours; when i was fully conscious in recovery, the moved me to a real room then upped my dosage, leaving me unconscious again; happily unconscious, mind you. I guess that's what-I don't even remember what they are giving me for pain-will do to you. I don't much care what they are giving me, either…because whatever it is, it's working, and it's working damn well.

"Dr. Weaver, your son is here…can I send him in with Abby?" Henry. Had it not been for him, I don't think I'd have done this. I nod.

"Mommy!" Abby must have reminded him that I was going to be very sore; he refrains from jumping up to give me a hug and instead stops short at the side of my bed.

"Hey sweetie…where's abuelita?" He's staying with Florina and Jorge for a couple of weeks.

"She went to the bathroom, asked me to bring Henry in to see you," Abby answers. "How are you feeling? Last time I saw you, you were a little...out if it." She adds, smiling.

"I'm fine…" that derives a skeptical look from Abby. What would she rather I say? _It hurts like hell?_ That would reassure my two year old son that his mommy is okay, alright. "What time is it?" I went in around 8 p.m. yesterday...I have no idea what time it is now.

"It's about 8:30…" So, I get to sit here with this wonderful, v-shaped pillow wedged between my legs for the next few hours until PT...that's when the fun will really start.

"Mommy, can I sit up there, with you?" Henry, who is barely tall enough to see over the bed, asks me.

"If Abby wants to pick you up, sure. But you'll have to sit on end of the bed, okay? Mommy's hip is a lot sorer than normal…" He looks up at Abby, who smiles and picks him up. In a little more than 2 years, she'll be doing the same to her unborn son or daughter who'll want to sit in bed with his mommy and daddy. Pretty odd, it seems like she was a medical student, for the first time, that is, just the other day.

I asume Abby was asked to stay with Henry until his grandmother got back, because she takes a seat in the free chair next to my bed. It's probably a good idea she does stay; a two year old wild-child, an immobilized parent and many potentially dangerous objects probably don't mix to well.

"Mommy…was it scary? Having your oper-, opera-" He tries getting his words out. He looks so perplexed, wearing the same expression Sandy wore when she would get confused across his face.

"Operation?" I finish for him. He smiles.

"Yeah! Was it scary? Uncle Miguel said that it was going to be scary!" He says, alarmed. Miguel. We've always been on good terms.

"It wasn't too scary. I Think Uncle Miguel was just trying to scare you!" I lie about being scared, adding a smile for sincerity.

"Oh…good! What did they do to you?" He is incredibly curious about everything. Should I just tell him about it later, or tell him now? The latter; I might as well get it over with, though God knows he'll ask again.

"Well…They started by putting me to sleep…then, they cut open my leg right there," I point to my hip, "then, they took out the parts of my hip that weren't good anymore, and put in new, metal ones." That's as simple as I can get it. He just nods, wearing that Lopez-look on his face again. I'll explain it to him later, when I'm not partially "trippin'" as Ray would describe my current state of narcotic-induced intoxication.

"…Dr. Weaver," a nurse comes in for what must be the 10th time. "how about we change your dressing?" _How about we take this damn catheter out?_ I feel like asking her, but instead, only nod.

"Alright, Henry…how about we go find your grandma? You can come back to see mommy later." Abby is great with him. She picks him up, and lets him lean in so I can give him a kiss.

"Bye, sweetie. See you later, okay?" Yeah, if I'm awake.


	2. Rest

This chapter is a bit different from the first, as far as Kerry's attitude goes, but I'm trying to write it using the certain stages of recovery.

Disclaimer: I don't own ER, Weaver, Henry, Carlos or Jeanie.

Read & Review, please; I'd love to know any tweaks or ideas you might have :)

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"Hey, Kerry…" A familiar voice came from the door as I was just getting back into bed, after using the walker to get to the bathroom. It was Jeanie. I haven't seen her in weeks. She's doing well, so she say's, but everyone knows how medical professionals are; never wanting to let on to their actual physical condition. I can understand that.

"Jeanie, how are you?" I ask. It's not just out of civility; I would actually really like to know. She looks thin. She's always been thin. Does she look sick? I can't tell. She takes a seat at the side of the bed, moving the walker off to the side.

"I'm fine, Kerry…a bit better than you, I assume, though you look like you're progressing..." she says with a smile.

"How's Carlos?" I don't want to be asked about my hip. It was replaced and I'm high on narcs, what else is there to say? Besides, I haven't seen him in nearly two months.

"He's great…he's still loving first grade…oh, when I told him I was coming to see you, he got all excited and said he just couldn't wait to see you and Henry. When I told him that Henry wasn't going to be here and that he couldn't come today, he looked heartbroken. It was the cutest thing. He really misses you guys…I do too." She finished. I laugh, then nod. I've missed them, too. We stayed close friends once she'd left County, after adopting Carlos, but then life got in the way, I guess. She and Reggie were busy raising Carlos while dealing with both Jeanie and Carlos' HIV status, and I was busy with, besides work, coming out. We talked maybe once a month, sometimes once every two months, and even then it was only ever quick conversations. When Sandy and I got together, calls were then only exchanged probably once every three or four months. I never told Jeanie of my first pregnancy, only of Sandy's. She was genuinely happy for us. Then, Sandy died. Not only did I block Jeanie out and ignore her calls; I blocked everyone out, I ignored everyone's calls. Finally, what must have been weeks later, I answered, asked her how she'd found out. She said Reggie had heard through the station, she wanted to meet up, to go out for coffee. From then on, we went out nearly every week, always getting coffee to take a break from the chaos of life. Once I'd gotten custody of Henry, our boys hit it off, Carlos acting as an older brother to Henry. Two years later, here we are. The reason I didn't draw up papers for Jeanie to be Henry's guardian is quite simple; there's a good chance she won't be well enough to take care of him when he's fifteen or sixteen; it's just too much a risk. That was her argument, anyway.

"I've missed you too, Jeanie…so, how is…everything?" I check the clock; physical therapy in twenty minutes…wonderful.

"Everything is…fine, I guess. But enough about me, really, I'm not the one who just had a chunk of my hip cut out and replaced with metal." She says, laughing, "How is physical therapy going?" I've had two sessions in the past day and a half; during the first, I took a few steps, and the second, a few more, and have never been more thankful for narcotics.

"It's been interesting," I answer, "a lot of hard work, really hard work. I never even thought that I'd have to relearn so much; I guess I never really thought about the fact that my brain doesn't know how to walk correctly…I just can't wait to get home…" I finish, thinking of Henry.

"Well, it looks like you've been making headway…two days post-op and you're already walking without someone in the room…" she says, raising an eyebrow , her tone suggesting she knows I did it against the restrictions my surgeon had set. I only laugh in response.

"Well, you've got to do what you've got to do, right?" I ask rhetorically. I nod my head back, and subconsciously shut my eyes. Twenty pittiful steps wore me out, I guess.

Jeanie catches my unintentional hint; "Alright Kerry…I'm going to get going…but I'll stop by once you get home, okay?" She asks, patting my hand as she stands up to leave.

"Okay Jeanie…tell Carlos I say hi, and that I can't wait to see him either, alright?" I smile, thankful to have such a great friend, and even more thankful to get some rest.


End file.
